


Disappearing Act

by Mertiya, Zomburai



Series: The Mana Leak Coffee Shop [3]
Category: Magic: The Gathering
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Chandra cannot stealth, Chandra tries to stealth, Gen, Gideon is Trying Really Hard, Jace desperately tries to remain in control of the situation, Jace is not good at remaining in control of the situation, Nissa does her best, Trans Character, Trans Jace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 03:40:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13355727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mertiya/pseuds/Mertiya, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zomburai/pseuds/Zomburai
Summary: Unfortunately for me, an old enemy of Chandra's appears in the Mana Leak when she's supposed to be on shift.  Things go downhill from there.





	Disappearing Act

            “ _Psssssst_ , Jace.”

            I stare at the register. It hasn’t been too busy, but there are still three empty coffee cups sitting on the counter with named written on them in my handwriting, that _should_ already contain some level of caffeinated beverage. “Chandra, where the hell have you been?” I demand out of the corner of my mouth. “Nissa doesn’t know how to make anything complicated yet, I’m on register, and _you’re supposed to be training her_.”

            “Yeah, I know, I’m sorry, but _look_.” She is literally crouched behind the counter now, and stabs vaguely in the direction of the armchairs near the front of the Mana Leak.

            I’m pretty sure she’s pointing at the middle-aged man hunched over his laptop. Either that or the teenage kid with a dog. Either way, she looks pissed.

            I roll my eyes. “What?” I ask.

            “It’s Mr. _Baral_ ,” she snarls, as if this name ought to mean something to me, which it definitely doesn’t.

            “Unless you have a vendetta against people whose last names start with ‘B’—in which case, tell me, I need to be warned—that doesn’t actually give me any useful information,” I point out. Nissa hovers near the drinks, looking confused, and I sigh. “Nissa, do you think you can handle the register?” I ask. She’s not technically fully trained, but she’s done pretty well so far, and it’s better than holding up the line any longer.

            “I—I’ll do my best,” she stammers, and we switch positions.

            So that’s a caramel macchiato for Sarge (‘Elspeth’)—not too bad—a black tea for Baral—fine—and, okay, right. No wonder Nissa was confused. I took this order down without thinking (‘Prince of Cats’), and it’s not the worst I’ve ever seen, but it’s definitely from someone who spends most of their time at Starbucks. “Tall, half-caff soy latte at 120 degrees.” Yeah, as if the exact temperature matters. Also, we don’t sell ‘talls.’ I sigh. Chandra sneaks along the ground beside me.

            “Chandra, seriously,” I say out of the corner of my mouth as I get out the soy milk. “I need you to actually do your job. Who is Mr. Baral?”

            “Jace, he tried to get me _expelled_ when I was seven!”

            “Didn’t you get expelled from high school?”

            “Yeah, but I actually deserved that,” she responds. “All I did as a kid was have dyslexia and ADHD. And—okay—maybe a tendency to draw on the desks. But _still_.”           

            “All right, you don’t like him. We’ll just have Nissa call him up and give him his drink. What’s the problem?”

            “He’s running against my mom for town council, and he’s giving a campaign talk later today, and I _bet his notes are on that laptop_!”

            

            All right, the soy is heating up, the tea is brewing, and I’ve got the caramel for Sarge’s macchiato. “That’s nice,” I say. “I’m still not sure what all this has to do with you refusing to _do your job_.”

            “I want to know what he’s going to say so I can sabotage it!” Chandra hisses. Oh, no. This is not going to end well.

            “Chandra,” I say desperately. “Gideon is going to be here any minute!”

            “Yeah, I know, which is why I need you to cover for me! I’ll only be a few minutes! This is the greatest opportunity of my lifetime.”

            “Chandra,” I try to say steadily, but I’m also focusing on making sure that the damn latte doesn’t overheat, and it’s distracting. “No, you can’t—”

            And she’s gone. Wonderful. I look back to find that there are two more drink orders at my elbow. Gideon will be here any minute. Nissa, at least, seems to be fine, still standing on the register and taking orders. I breathe very deeply and count to five. Okay. No problem. Just have to cover for a few minutes while down a person at one of the busiest times of the morning. My brain chooses to remind me that I also have an exam this afternoon, and I carefully excise that thought and compartmentalize it to deal with later. Make drinks. Just. Make drinks.

            I’ve made four more drinks in record time, and I’ve almost reached the zen state of barista autopilot when my phone vibrates and I nearly drop someone’s mocha. We usually keep our phones on in case of emergency, and in any case it could be a message from Gideon saying he’s going to be late, so I artfully shift the mocha to my left hand and dig out the phone with my right.

 

**Red**

> _How do you hack a laptop_

 

            Oh my god. Not now. What are you thinking? I shove the phone back into my pocket and look over the counter. Mr. Baral has received his tea and is sitting back in the armchair to sip it, his laptop is on the coffee table in front of him, and Chandra is plastered across the back of his chair like the world’s most redheaded secret agent, peering around the side. She is incredibly obvious. Several of the customers are staring.

 

**Red**

>GET BACK HERE

> _no I can’t tell me how to hack someone’s laptop_

>I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU

> _Hacking. You, me. Three sentences._

_>_ Okay, firstly I’m a CS major,

not a hacker and secondly,

right now I’m not either because I’m

trying to make coffee

> _you suck_

 

            Furiously trying to compose a reply, I basically walk right into a tall mass of muscle in a Mana Leak apron. “G-Gideon,” I stammer. “Hi.”

            “Why is Nissa working the register?” he asks, and he sounds so heartbreakingly sincere. Gideon is legitimately the nicest person I’ve ever met. He doesn’t deserve to be managing people like me and Chandra.

            “Um,” I say, thinking quickly and trying hard not to glance over the counter to where I’m sure Chandra hasn’t become any more subtle since the last time I looked. “Well, Chandra wasn’t feeling well, so I sent her to the back to sit down for a few minutes.”

            Gideon frowns. “I’d better check on her,” he says. “She might need some water. Do you think she’ll need to clock out early?”

            “Oh, I’m sure she’ll be fine in a minute or two,” I lie frantically. “I think she was just up too late studying for her, uh, midterm.” He seems indecisive. “Nissa and I could really use a hand,” I point out, which is cunning, but also true. The drink orders are stacking up again.

            “All right.” I breathe a sigh of relief as Gideon waves me back to the register and calls Nissa over. It looks like he’s planning to train her and catch up on the orders, which I could not possibly do, but Gideon is fantastic at literally everything.

            My phone is vibrating again, and I take two seconds to glare in Chandra’s general direction. She’s still clearly visible from the counter, although she’s now gotten onto her hands and knees and is trying to crawl around Baral’s chair. Before I can figure out if there’s anything I can possibly do to get her to come back, someone in front of the register clears their throat. “ _Excuse_ me,” they say, and I put on my best customer service smile. Unfortunately I’m pretty sure my best right now is still not great, because my brain is trying to deal with three separate lines of thought.

            “Um, yes?”

            “I ordered a latte at 120 degrees? This is cold.” He’s smirking at me. This asshole in tight jeans and a t-shirt that I am painfully sure is from Hot Topic is _smirking_ at me.

            “120 degrees is rather cool for a latte,” I point out. “But I can warm it up for you if you’d like.” See, this is one of the reasons I need Chandra around. She has a great touch for getting drinks to _exactly_ the right temperature. If I can tell you what you want to drink, she can make it exactly the way you like it. I’m not an incompetent barista, but I don’t have her touch. I give Tight Pants a matching tight smile.

            “Yeah, _do_ that,” he says. There’s a little line forming behind him. My phone vibrates again, and I glance over to where Chandra is now—oh, god, she’s lying on her back underneath the table. I have no idea how Mr. Baral hasn’t seen her yet. I take the drink from my unhappy customer automatically, but before I can turn around I hear Gideon’s voice behind me.

            “I thought you said Chandra was in the back room?” It’s like having a very attractive velociraptor breathing down my neck. I manage not to drop the latte, and I’m very proud of that, but I also feel frozen to the spot. I wonder if you can actually drop dead of stress?

            “She is,” I hear my voice saying, and I know my eyes are traveling over to where Chandra has now rolled onto her side and is standing up.

            “Are you sure?” Gideon asks. I glance to the side a little and see that he’s looking at her as well.

            “Yes,” I say. “Of course.” Chandra rises up, like an avenging angel, and then she dramatically hooks one foot behind the other ankle and—oh no, she’s not going to—oh god, she is going to—she falls forward, batting Mr. Baral’s black tea to the left as she does. Tea and Chandra both land on top of the laptop, with a magnificent clattering noise. I don’t know what to do.

            “Uh,” I say to the customer. “Look, I’m sorry, I think—I think I need to—uh.”

            “Oh dear,” Gideon says simultaneously and both of us look at each other in consternation.

            Across the room, Mr. Baral is standing up. He’s huge, and I spare a moment for a passing wish that Chandra would ever manage to pick on someone her own size, before Baral reaches out and grabs Chandra’s wrist, yanking her upright. Gideon and I don’t pause; both of us are leaping across the room in the next moment. My brain is screaming at me that I’m going to die, but I’ve got both hands on Chandra’s shoulders and I’m trying to stop her from doing anything stupid while also putting myself between her and Mr. Baral. Thank god, I can feel Gideon jammed behind me; I’m pathetically grateful for that.

            “Move!” Baral snarls, just as Chandra yells in my face for me to let her go.

            I’m going to die. Chandra is going to light me on fire with her mind, and if she doesn’t, I’m going to get beaten to death by an angry ex-principal. I’m frozen at this point, and I’m still trying to think of what to do, when someone says in an extraordinarily calm voice, “Please. Let’s all settle down.”

            I met Mr. Ugin once when he hired me, once again when he came in last month to talk over the decision to hire Nissa with Gideon. He’s very short—shorter than I am, which I can’t say about many people—and he has a long, white wispy beard, but I’m not really sure how old he is. He looks anywhere from his late forties to his early eighties. Right now, though, it doesn’t matter how short he is, or how old he is; all that matters is that quiet seems to follow him like a cloak.

            Chandra wilts immediately, and even Mr. Baral backs down a step, although he musters up the anger to say, “I want her _fired_! Look at what she did to my laptop!”

            “Chandra will be disciplined,” Mr. Ugin says, and—oh god—what if he does fire her? It’s my fault, too, and Chandra’s one of my best friends. I can’t let her take the fall for this by herself, but my voice has dried up. “Please allow me to offer you compensation—however much your computer is worth and something extra for the inconvenience. Shall we say a thousand dollars?”

            “What about my hard drive?” Baral demands, although the mention of the money seems to have taken the wind out of his sails. “All my notes—my work!”

            “There is an excellent computer repair store just across the road,” Mr. Ugin tells him blandly. “I will be happy to speak to them for you.”

            “Well…but I have a campaign meeting today,” Baral protests, but he’s clearly wavering.

            “That is troubling,” Mr. Ugin says smoothly, but something about his impassive face—about his _presence_ seems to push Mr. Baral to stand down.

            “I suppose—if you’re willing to compensate me,” he grumbles.

            “Jace?” Gideon murmurs. “You need to breathe.”

            Right. So I do. I take a long, gulping breath, feeling my chest expanding. Mr. Ugin turns to us. “Chandra,” he says mildly, and she seems to shrink five inches. I feel myself deflating as well. “I would like to see you. Gideon and Jace, please return to the counter. I will talk to you later.”

            This cannot be good. I give Chandra what I really hope is an encouraging smile as Gideon and I trundle back over towards the counter, but inside my stomach is cold and sinking right into my boots. Why didn’t I come up with a better plan for her? I’m the plan guy. I should have told her we could disrupt Mr. Baral’s campaign whatever later. After we were both off. If she gets fired, I am never going to forgive myself.

            Nissa is hovering behind the counter when we reach it. “What happened?” she asks us. She must have been concentrating too hard on learning to make drinks. I just shake my head; I don’t feel like I’m up for explaining the whole thing again. Especially not given how utterly steeped in shame I feel right now. Gideon starts talking to Nissa in a low voice. He’s pretty close to her, which—huh. I mean, Nissa is pretty, but I didn’t realize Gideon went so much for slender, tall women. I don’t think he’s doing it on purpose, but he’s definitely turned towards her in a way that reads as—not flirtatious, exactly, Gideon doesn’t really _do_ flirtatious, but more simultaneously protective and bashful. I’ve seen him look at Chandra the same way.

            I go back to the register and let Gideon talk to Nissa. No need for me to be a third wheel, and besides, I need to not be thinking right now. Even concentrating as hard as I can on my job, the minutes seem to crawl past. Every time I look at the clock it seems as if only thirty seconds have passed.

            Finally, I see Chandra slinking out of the office and towards the backroom. Her eyes are red and blotchy, and she’s slumping. Oh, no. No, no, no. I can’t do this job without her. There’s a lump in my throat.

            “Gideon, can you man the register?” I manage to ask, and I’m across the room before he can do more than get halfway through a nod.

            “Chandra!” I call out. “Chandra, what happened?” She turns towards me and my stomach slips a little further towards my shoes. “Are you—” I can’t say it.

            She manages a lopsided smile. “Suspended for a week,” she says in a rush. “It’s okay, I just feel about three inches tall.”

            I notice I’ve forgotten to breathe again and gulp in some air. “God,” I say. “I’m really sorry.”

            “Why are _you_ sorry? I don’t think you actually could’ve hacked his laptop that fast.”

            “No, but I should have thought of something.”

            Chandra sighs and claps me on the shoulder. “Jace, you’re my best friend, you’re not my dad. I did something stupid and now Mr. Baral gets money out of the Mana Leak for it. It’s not the end of the world.”

            I look at her meditatively. “You know, just because this plan today didn’t work doesn’t mean we can’t figure out a way to—” I pause, thinking how to phrase this, “—disrupt his campaign plans,” I finally finish. “We’d better not do anything during working hours, but—”

            Chandra blinks at me. “Wow,” she says finally. “You—are way too fucking nice for your own good, Jace.”

            “I’m really not,” I say. “But thanks, I guess?”

            “I’m not gonna say no,” she says, with the shadow of a grin. “But seriously, Jace, you’re—no, I won’t tell you you’re too nice again, but you’re a damn good friend, man.”

            It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this honestly warm. “We’ll get through this,” I tell her firmly, and I promise myself that, somehow, we really will.


End file.
